


let's talk about sex, baby

by itainthardtryin



Series: We're Bad At Dating: Clexa Edition (AU tumblr prompts) [12]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3825214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itainthardtryin/pseuds/itainthardtryin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part twelve of the We're Bad At Dating series based on this prompt: Your appointment with a sexual therapist was right after mine and we got talking in the waiting room. </p>
<p>Alternatively, Clarke loves sex but can't climax anymore so she visits a sex therapist. She meets Lexa in the waiting room. They end up helping each other overcome their problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's talk about sex, baby

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot of feelings about lexa's attitude towards sex post-costia and it's destroying my soul

Clarke didn’t want to make an appointment. Making an appointment would be admitting she has a problem. But then again, admitting she has a problem is the first step to a solution, so she throws caution to the wind and calls a sexual therapist.

Three days later she’s in the waiting room, fidgeting nervously, not knowing what to expect. She looks around at the posters on the wall promoting safe sex, some with numbers and addresses for support groups in the area. This is bad enough, Clarke thinks. Why anyone would want to go to an actual, honest to god, support group is beyond her.

There are two other people in the waiting room. One, a guy, who looks like he’s in his late forties, probably onto his third or fourth marriage. Clarke guesses he’s here for erectile dysfunction. The other person in the waiting room is a girl roughly the same age as Clarke. The first thing she notices about her is that she’s cute. Like, really cute.

Her hair is dark and braided, her clothes are grungy. She has an edge to her, but Clarke can tell that she’s shy from her body language. She wonders what she’s here for.

You can’t just ask someone that, can you?

“Hey,” Clarke says, trying to get her attention. She looks over, confused as to why Clarke is talking to her. “It’s my first time here,” Clarke explains. “I was just wondering if you knew what to expect.”

The girl studies her, looks her up and down for long moments. “It depends what you’re here for,” she says. Clarke falters, embarrassed to admit her problem. Luckily, the girl helps her out. “Physical or psychological?”

Clarke isn’t sure. She’s here because she can’t climax. She’s had more than her fair share of sex recently - college has been great to her. Pretty much everyone is hot, everyone is horny, and even the straight girls want to try everything once. Basically, college has been Clarke’s sexual awakening. She loves it. But three months ago, Clarke slept with a girl from her photography class who was extremely attractive, sexy as hell, and did all the right things in bed. But no matter how hard she tried, Clarke couldn’t come. The girl’s mouth was everywhere, fingers pumping insider her, thumb on her clit working her closer, but Clarke got so far and couldn’t go any further.

In the end, she faked it - convincingly, of course - and it took her all of five minutes to get the girl off, which diverted her attention. That night, Clarke lay in bed, hand in her underwear trying to work herself up. She’d always been able to bring herself to orgasm, but this time she couldn’t. She cried herself to sleep that night in frustration.

“Um, hopefully psychological,” Clarke replies. She hopes it isn’t physical. The idea of never being able to come again isn’t something she wants to think about.

“They’ll ask you a lot of questions. Most of them won’t even be about sex,” the girl tells her. “They’ll probably ask about your stress levels, any history of mental illness in the family. It’s all in your head.”

That doesn’t calm Clarke’s nerves. “Great,” she says sarcastically. “So they’re gonna dig up all the awful parts of my past, just because I can’t get myself off?”

The girl smiles, and Clarke puts her hands over her mouth when she realises what she’s said. “I- I didn’t mean to say that.”

“We’re all here for the same thing,” the girl reminds her.

“I can’t believe I just told you that,” Clarke laughs. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Lexa,” she tells her. “And you are?”

“Clarke.”

“Well, Clarke, I bet you’re wondering why I’m here,” Lexa teases. “Wondering what my deep, dark secret is?”

“A little,” Clarke admits.

“It’s a pretty tragic story,” Lexa says, and Clarke doesn’t know if she’s joking or not. “It starts back when my girlfriend was murdered.” And nope, definitely not joking.

“Wow,” Clarke says under her breath.

“I’ve come to terms with it, don’t worry. But sex was always about connecting with her. And now that’s she’s gone, sex is meaningless.”

Clarke’s problem seems so small in comparison. At least she still has the drive, the desire for sex. Lexa doesn’t. “Is the therapy helping?”

“I don’t know yet,” Lexa says. “This is my seventh session out of ten. I think I’m beginning to accept that sex can be about more than emotional attachment.”

“I’ve never had sex with someone I’m emotionally attached to,” Clarke tells her quietly. “Just a hell of a lot of casual hook ups.”

Lexa furrows her brow. “You are missing out on something incredibly special,” she tells her. “Sex can be so much more than just the physical.”

“Sometimes the physical is all I want,” Clarke says frustratedly. “It’s been three fucking months since I got off, and I’m going crazy.”

Lexa smiles. “Three months? It’s been three years for me.”

“Three years?!” Clarke exclaims. “Holy shit. You must be… frustrated.”

“At times, I admit, I do crave a release.”

“Well, you’re talking to the right person,” Clarke says, and as soon as she does she realises how it must have sounded to Lexa. “I meant the therapist. I didn’t mean me. That came out wrong.”

A door opens in the waiting room and a woman in a white coat walks out. “Lexa Woods,” she says, calling her in for her appointment.

“That’s me,” Lexa says, standing up. “And maybe talking to you would be more beneficial than the therapist,” Lexa whispers, leaning in close. “I’m sure you could teach me a thing or two.”

Lexa walks away before Clarke has a chance to respond.

 

\---

 

Clarke gets called into a separate room for her appointment and she thinks she won’t see Lexa again. When she’s done, she leaves the room and is shocked to see her waiting there for her.

“I wanted to see how it went,” Lexa clarifies. “Your first time can be scary.”

“It was pretty much as you said it would be. We took a magical mystery tour through my traumatic teens. As if the death of my father has anything to do with why I suddenly can’t climax.”

“I know people talk about girls with ‘daddy issues’ but I think that’s taking it a little too far,” Lexa agrees.

Clarke laughs. “Did your session go well?”

“My therapist believes I should seek out a sexual partner,” Lexa tells her. “She thinks it would be wise to test the waters, as it were.”

“So she wants you to get laid to see if you’ve actually moved on?”

“You pretty much just summarised an hour’s worth of therapy in one sentence.” Lexa smiles, and Clarke feels herself doing the same. “Perhaps, if I found you before the therapist, I wouldn’t have to pay a hundred dollars per session.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Clarke agrees. “I only charge ninety,” she says with a wink.

“Clarke, if anyone were watching, they might think you were flirting with me.”

“Maybe they’d be right,” Clarke replies, walking towards the door, leaving Lexa frozen to the spot.

 

\---

 

Lexa catches up with Clarke outside the medical center, calling out her name to get her attention. “Hey!” she shouts, half walking, half running. “You can’t just leave on a cliffhanger.”

“What can I say? I’m a fan of theatrics,” Clarke teases.

“Well, I’m a fan of not walking away after you tell a girl you’re flirting with her,” Lexa replies, trying to keep a straight face. Clarke sees right through her.

“And what would you have done if I’d stayed?”

“Then you would have been treated to some impressive lyrical foreplay.”

Clarke tries her hardest not to laugh, but fails miserably. “Lyrical foreplay is not the type of foreplay I’m interested in.”

“When it’s been three years, Clarke, any foreplay is good foreplay.” Lexa’s face is serious but her tone is light.

“I’ve another two years and nine months until I’m that desperate,” Clarke reminds her.

“Desperate?”

Clarke is thoughtful for a second. “Eager is maybe a better word.”

“Clarke, forgive me for my forwardness, but it does seem like you are far more sexually frustrated than I am.” Lexa smirks because she knows she’s right. She also knows that this conversation is only adding to Clarke’s need for release.

“Only because I was getting it on the regular,” Clarke boasts playfully. “When you’re doing something every day and then it’s taken away from you, three months is almost like forever.”

Lexa laughs. “Every day is too much, Clarke. You may have had a problem long before this one.”

“You haven’t slept with me yet. Believe me, every day is good.”

“Yet?” Lexa says hopefully, ears pricking up at the word. Clarke blushes.

“That’s if I’m ever even able to have sex ever again,” Clarke says, only half joking.

Lexa looks at her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m willing to help you test your progress. You know, if you need someone.”

“Are you sure this offer isn’t for your own benefit? After all, you are on the hunt for a ‘sexual partner’,” she says, putting the phrase in air quotes.

“I can find someone else if you aren’t willing,” Lexa tells her.

It’s almost comical how quickly Clarke replies. “No!” she half shouts. “No,” she repeats in a more even tone. “We can help each other.”

“God knows we both need it.”

“Some more than others,” Clarke teases with a wink.

“The offer can be taken off the table if you do not take it seriously, Clarke.”

“I’ll take your clothes off, and fuck _you_ on the table,” Clarke says, her tone darkening. “Maybe then you’ll see how serious I’m taking it.”

Lexa desperately tries to find the words to respond, but draws a blank. Clarke smirks, knowing she’s won.

“So, when does our arrangement come into play?”

“Whenever you feel like you are ready,” Lexa tells her, honestly.

And here lies Clarke’s problem. She _feels_ ready. She’s so turned on right now, she feels like she could fuck Lexa all night and probably for most of the morning, too. But she doesn’t want to be a complete failure when Lexa returns the favour. She doesn’t want Lexa to see her climb and climb, but never fall over the edge.

“Maybe we should start with you first,” Clarke tells her. “Saying you’ve been going to therapy for longer.”

“I think that is a wise decision,” Lexa agrees. “When?”

“Now is as good a time as any.”

 

\---

 

Lexa lives closest so they go to apartment. By the time they get through the door, Lexa has her shoes off, jacket off, top off and is standing in nothing but her bra and skinny jeans.

“For someone who says I’m the more sexually frustrated of us, you’re very eager to get started.”

“Three years, Clarke,” is all Lexa says. Clarke understands immediately.

“Bedroom?” she asks. Lexa takes her hand and leads her there. They close the door behind them, standing in the middle of the room and then it’s just Clarke and Lexa. Everything is much more intimidating when they’re this close. “We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready, Lexa,” Clarke whispers, noticing how closed off Lexa has become in the past thirty seconds.

Lexa is silent for long moments and Clarke wonders if she should just put an end to this now. But then Lexa speaks. “I’m ready. I just- I need things to go at my pace,” Lexa admits in a small voice. She looks so fragile, so broken, and Clarke wonders if this is what she needs to be put back together.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” Clarke says. Lexa nods, understanding that Clarke won’t push her any further than she wants to go. Clarke can’t take her eyes off Lexa’s lips, and she glances between them and Lexa’s eyes. She leans in slowly, allowing Lexa time to pull away if she wants. She doesn’t.

Lexa kisses Clarke back so slowly that their lips are barely moving at all. Clarke can feel the light pressure, and she moves her hands to rest on the bottom of Lexa’s back. The muscles in Lexa’s back tense at the skin on skin contact, causing Clarke to pull away. “Lexa, if you’re not ready for this we don’t have to,” she says again, never breaking eye contact.

“It’s just going to take me a minute,” Lexa admits. “When I said it had been three years since I had sex, it’s also three years since I had any sort of contact.” Lexa waits for the information to sink in. “That was my first kiss since Costia,” Lexa whispers. Clarke’s heart feels heavy, breaking for the pain Lexa must have felt in losing her girlfriend, and for the pain she still must feel.

“Was it okay?” Clarke asks.

Lexa’s eyes soften. “It was perfect,” she says. “Hopefully the second kiss will be just as good.” She leans in and kisses Clarke with more passion this time. Clarke pulls her body closer, and Lexa lets her, enjoying the feeling of being close to someone again.

Lexa’s tongue finds its way into Clarke’s mouth, and Clarke welcomes it with a moan, vibrating on Lexa’s lips, sending shivers down her spine. She pulls away. “”I want to move to the bed,” Lexa tells her, her voice more confident now.

Clarke takes her hands from Lexa’s body and lets her go. Lexa climbs onto the bed, sitting with her back against the headboard. “Whenever you’re ready Clarke,” she jokes, when Clarke makes no effort to follow.

“I was just admiring the view,” Clarke says quietly, looking at Lexa’s body. “You can’t blame a girl for that.”

“No, you can’t,” Lexa smiles. “But you can blame a girl for taking too long.”

Clarke recognizes that as her cue, and she crawls onto the bed, placing one hand on the headboard beside Lexa’s head, the other resting on Lexa’s hip. Her body is in between Lexa’s legs, and Lexa reaches up to wrap her arms around Clarke’s neck. “I didn’t know you this morning,” she says. “How did we end up here?”

Clarke is slightly taken aback, but she can see that Lexa means it in wonder, not in regret. “I read somewhere once that you should always say hello to someone you like the look of. Because you’ve got nothing to lose. And because two things could happen. One, they could ignore you, or two, that hello could be the first day of the rest of your life.”

“I’m glad I didn’t ignore you,” Lexa whispers, and Clarke kisses her. She kisses her and kisses her and kisses her.

A few minutes later, Lexa’s hand finds Clarke’s on her hip and directs it lower, dangerously close to the waistband of Lexa’s jeans. Clarke opens her eyes and pauses, looking into Lexa’s for any sign of hesitation or doubt. When she doesn’t find any, she starts unbuttoning her jeans and pulls them down as much as she can without Lexa’s help.

When Lexa sees her struggling, she kicks them off the rest of the way, leaving her in only her bra and panties. Clarke’s heart rate speeds up and she wonders how Lexa’s feeling. “Are you okay?”

“It feels a little exposed,” she tells Clarke honestly. “But I need you to touch me.”

Clarke moves her fingers below the elastic of Lexa’s underwear, watching her reaction the entire time. She moves her hand lower until she finds Lexa’s wetness and watches as Lexa gasps, but never falters. Her eyes are determined and needy.

“You feel so good,” Clarke reassures her. She feels Lexa’s body relax underneath her, and by the look on Lexa’s face, Clarke isn’t the only one who didn’t realise just how tense she was.

Clarke starts moving her fingers in small circles on Lexa’s clit, trying to be as soft and gentle as she can as Lexa gets used to being touched again after such a long time. Clarke would never voice it out loud to Lexa, but this is the most intimate sex she’s ever had. They’re not in love, but they’re in… something. And whatever it is, they’re in it together.

Lexa tries to keep her eyes trained on Clarke, but when Clarke’s fingers slip inside her, Lexa’s head falls back and her eyes close as she loses herself in the feeling. Clarke presses soft kisses to Lexa’s neck as she brings Lexa closer and closer to the edge. It takes less time than Clarke’s used to, and after a few minutes Lexa’s breathing becomes labored and shallow. Clarke watches as Lexa’s body moves beautifully in time with her gasps, watches how the muscles on her stomach tense as she rides out her orgasm on Clarke’s fingers.

Clarke has always thought that sleeping with someone was hot as hell, that girls bodies were the sexiest thing she’s ever seen. But it’s Lexa’s body - underwear still covering both her breasts and the most intimate part of her, that shows Clarke just how beautiful a woman can be when she comes.

Lexa isn’t the only one who’s breathless when she opens her eyes again.

Clarke can see how many emotions are running through her as Lexa looks at Clarke desperately. Clarke removes her fingers, and Lexa’s whole body shudders. Her other hand cups Lexa’s face, thumb stroking softly along her cheek. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay to feel something.” Clarke knows she’s saying it as much for her own benefit as Lexa’s.

Lexa’s eyes are filled with tears that are about to spill over. “They are not for her,” Lexa clarifies, as the first one rolls down her cheek and Clarke wipes it away. “They are for you, Clarke,” Lexa says, in the most haunting voice Clarke has ever heard. “For how grateful I am that I found you, and for how badly I want to return the favor,” Lexa adds, trying to lighten the mood. She laughs a little through her tears and Clarke joins her.

“Hopefully one day,” Clarke whispers, imagining how Lexa’s fingers would feel inside her, how her tongue would feel between her legs.

“Hopefully,” Lexa echoes, pulling Clarke in for a kiss.

 

\---

 

It takes Clarke eleven sessions to be ready for Lexa to touch her.

It takes Lexa less than eleven minutes to get Clarke off, tongue licking the length of her, Clarke’s back arching off the bed.

Turns out, Clarke learns, that too much sex can be a bad thing. That finding someone new to fuck every day can actually mess with your head. Clarke’s body wanted the physical, but her heart wanted something more. That was the problem.

The solution was Lexa.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, my tumblr is scottcanyounot and i like it when you come and say hi


End file.
